


Rise to the Top of the World

by historia_vitae_magistras



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-22 05:05:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17053694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/historia_vitae_magistras/pseuds/historia_vitae_magistras
Summary: A series of moments in the life of Alfred F. Jones. Drabbles with accompanying aesthetic mood boards. Moved from my tumblr.





	Rise to the Top of the World

 

“You think I wanted to be like this?” Alfred asked, and there’s something desperate and sharp about him now. “You think I wanted to be the power in the world when we signed that declaration? Because I didn’t.” He'd been the crown prince on the run. He'd told the world to fuck off. But since when did the world listen?   
  
Mattie sits back in his chair, lifts his beer to his mouth, but seems to think better of it. He sets it down on the table between them. Outside this shit heap of lumber Matt calls a cabin, his Mustang sits pretty, covered in wet leaves because Matt refuses to build a decent house up here, much less a garage. He thinks about upturning his beer, taking his keys and driving the goddamn thing off a cliff. See if its souped-up engine will sound like his old warplanes.  
  
“What did you want then?” Matt asks, and it's carefully said, softly said. Mattie has always been the one clinging to a continent. And now he looks acutely aware again that Alfred could shove him off completely.  
  
“Same shit we’ve always wanted.” He says and punctuates it with waving his hand between them. His brother's hard survivor's eyes melt back down to their usual mildness. Alfred lifts the beer to his mouth again, then down, a sudden spike of passion in his throat. “Same shit we've always want remember? To go where we want, when we want to go. To be who we want. To love what we want. To look west and forget that cesspit across the Atlantic.”  
  
"We can't run away from the world."  
  
"Pfft," Alfred snorts and tastes hops. "I don't need to run away from it. It needs to leave me the fuck alone."  
  
“We are who we are because of them,” Matthew says and it’s been 257 years but his mouth still wants to smooth into the softer sounds of French.  
  
“We are what we are in reaction to them.” Alfred slammed his beer down.  
  
“Maybe,” Matthew says diplomatically. His eyebrows are drawn up like he’s considering what Alfred has to say, but doesn’t agree just yet.  
  
“Maybe?” Alfred says. “No— C’mon man. We need to better than that shithole. Dad can go fuck himself. Francis can go fuck himself. Ivan, Ludwig, God they can all go fuck themselves. The whole world can go fuck itself. I just want to be left alone.”  
  
“It’s a little late for that,” Matthew said.  
  
Alfred slams his beer on Matthew’s table and considers the consequences of empire. “Don’t I know it, brother. Don’t I fucking know it.”  
  



End file.
